


Blame the Heat

by UndeservingHero



Series: Ballet and Rock 'n Roll [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Ballet Dancer Dean, Body Worship, Destiel - Freeform, M/M, Mary raising Dean, Punk Castiel, Summer Sex, Vague Explicit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-09
Updated: 2015-04-09
Packaged: 2018-03-22 01:15:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3709465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UndeservingHero/pseuds/UndeservingHero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean’s skin is damp with the heat. He’s kicked off most of the covers and is stripped down to his boxerbriefs, trying to stave off heatstroke in his own bed.<br/>Dawn is breaking as his breathing has evened out again into sleep after finding some moderately comfortable position. He’s on his belly with his arms shoved up under the pillow and one leg crooked out to the side. Sprawled out over almost all of the mattress.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blame the Heat

**Author's Note:**

> I am a child of summer and have a soft spot for the heat. It was eight-five today. This is the result.
> 
> Anna Sun by Walk the Moon was what I was listening to when I wrote this if you would like to listen.

Dean’s skin is damp with the heat. He’s kicked off most of the covers and is stripped down to his boxerbriefs, trying to stave off heatstroke in his own bed.

Dawn is breaking as his breathing has evened out again into sleep after finding some moderately comfortable position. He’s on his belly with his arms shoved up under the pillow and one leg crooked out to the side. Sprawled out over almost all of the mattress.

A figure slips in through the open window as the first rays of sunlight just kiss the clouds, turning them dark blue first. The faint light turns the shadows in the room deeper but gives him enough light that he can see.

Blue eyes scan the figure splayed out on the bed. He smiles slightly, knowing how hot of a sleeper Dean is. The curve of his back is bared and those boxerbriefs hug him in just the right way.

Cas pulls off his shirt and shoes, quietly getting shed down to his own boxers. He carefully sets a knee on the bed next to Dean’s extended ankle and so slowly touches it with his fingertips. He traces up over the curve of Dean’s calf and the back of his knee before Dean slowly rouses and looks over his shoulder.

It’s light enough outside now that he can see Cas grinning at him in the half-light and relaxes back into the bed, not making a move to stop him.

Cas takes it as an invitation, doing the same on Dean’s other leg before he comes to the waist of his underwear, slowly pulling them down. Dean grumbles when he’s made to move, but doesn’t argue too much when a kiss is pressed against his ankle.

Cas’s hands move back up over his legs as he lowers himself against Dean’s back and kisses his way up his spine to his ear. He can see Dean’s smile even though his eyes are still closed. “Hello, Dean.”

Dean smiles a little wider and turns his head just far enough that he can kiss Cas. “Morning, Cas,” he says against his mouth.

Cas drags his mouth over Dean’s jaw, feeling just the smallest bit of stubble rough against his lips, and he can taste the salt of the heat and smell it on Dean’s skin. His hands move over Dean’s sides and he nibbles over the nape of his neck because he knows it makes him shiver.

Dean lazily lifts a hand to run through Cas’s already messed up hair from where he didn’t bother to comb it before sneaking over here and climbing up into Dean’s room. Silky soft, it wraps around his fingers and he wants to tug on it. But not yet.

He knows Cas came here for a reason this early. He knows why. He knows that there are words and thoughts and something between them that they need to say, but neither of them want to yet. Not yet.

Cas makes sure he knows he’s being worshipped by the way his mouth moves over all of Dean, kissing and tasting, taking and giving. By the time they’re finally connected, Dean’s name is a prayer on his lips and he feels like he’s going to shatter until Dean kisses him breathless.

Their eyes meet as they move together, the sunlight coming through the window giving Cas’s dark hair a halo from God as Dean looks up at him and he can’t help but pray to any angels listening. He says thank you a thousand times for giving him this blessing. For giving him Cas.

They are both slick with sweat and need as the heat rises around them but neither can stop. Neither of them can pull away from this. Nothing could make them.

Cas smothers Dean’s cry with a hard kiss as he follows him into oblivion.

They lie there, breathing hard, Cas’s forehead pressed into the pillow beside Dean. Dean’s fingers move through his hair and idly pets him. They know. They know and they don’t have to say so, but Dean does anyway.

Cas pulls away and his eyes are soft as he looks at him. It’s good to know. It’s good to hear it. Too good. So he has to say it back.

And then the sun comes out for the second time that day as Dean smiles up at him, all warm skin and messy hair.

The softness is shattered when a flat palm bangs on Dean’s door and Sammy calls that “Mom’s making pancakes so get up.”

They stare at each other, their hearts thudding against their ribs until they both start laughing quietly and try to smother it with more kisses as they unwind from each other.

That magic, though, doesn’t fade for a long time. Cold water in the shower, mom kissing Cas’s hair like she does with her sons, Sammy yammering on at the kitchen table. Nothing can make it go away.

But that’s okay. They don’t want it to.

The End.

 

 


End file.
